“Not in any way that signifies.”
She considered him for a moment.
“You are very resolute.”
“I am very certain.”
Her smile deepened.
“Then I shall endeavor to be the same.”
“You already are.”
And so the matter settled.
Not without noise.
Not without opposition.
But without doubt.
The season moved forward, carrying with it preparations, expectations, and a growing sense of anticipation that touched every part of their lives. January approached, and with it the promise of a day that would join not only two couples, but two futures that had once seemed entirely separate.
Elizabeth felt it all.
The weight of it.
The joy of it.
The certainty of it.
And through it all, one truth remained clear above all others.
She had not thought such happiness possible.
She would not, now, surrender it for anything.
Epilogue
There were many marriages in Meryton that January.
The season, which had begun in frost and expectation, seemed determined to conclude in celebration, as though the long restraint of winter had given way all at once to a joyful abundance that could not be contained. Invitations were written, gowns were altered, carriages were called into constant use, and the small town found itself at the center of more festivity than it had seen in many years.
The first of these marriages was that of Charlotte Lucas.
She was wed to Mr. Tipton in a ceremony marked not by great display, but by propriety that suited her character perfectly. There was satisfaction in it rather than romance, and comfort rather than rapture, but it was no less genuine for that. Charlotte entered into her new life with a clear understanding of what she valued, and she found in Mr. Tipton a man whose steadiness and good sense aligned well with her own.
They removed almost immediately to his home in Stevenage, where Charlotte applied herself to her new household with the same practical intelligence she had always possessed. If there was not great passion in her marriage, there was peace, and in time, affection grew where it had not been expected to flourish so readily. Within a few years, she had presented her husband with two sons, both healthy, both thriving, and Charlotte herself was content in a way that required no further explanation.
Elizabeth, who received letters from her regularly, took comfort in this knowledge. Charlotte had chosen wisely—for herself—and there was no reason to wish her anything more.
The second marriage—or rather, marriages—were of a very different nature.
For it was decided, after much discussion and no little enthusiasm, that Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy should be married on the same day as Jane Bennet and Mr. Bingley.
This arrangement pleased everyone.
It pleased the sisters, who had been close all their lives and found in the prospect of sharing such a moment together something deeply meaningful. It pleased Mr. Collins, who declared it an excellent example of economy and efficiency, and who spoke at length on the advantages of consolidating occasions of such importance into a single event. It pleased Mrs. Bennet, who saw in it an opportunity for celebration on a scale she had not permitted herself since her husband’s death, and who applied herself to the planning with a vigor that astonished even those most accustomed to her enthusiasm.
